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yikimiki · 5 months

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>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #smut #jjk smut

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roosterforme · 7 months

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The Younger Kind Part 32 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is used to feeling comfortable around you, so when he arrives home and things feel strained, he wants to understand why. The more you tell him about what has you so upset, the more he wants to try to fix everything. But you don't know if he can do anything to mend your confidence.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 5600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more! The Younger Kind masterlist.

Nat called and texted the next day to check in with you and Noah. It didn't matter how many times you lied and told her that you were just fine, she said she wanted to be sure. But you knew you were barely holding on, and the next two days without Bradley were going to be really hard.

Because now it wasn't just the USB drive. It was also your hand. And the broken glass. And the way Noah cried. You were currently curled up in Bradley's bed with Noah sound asleep in your arms, and you didn't even want to go to work tomorrow. Your hand was aching, and the gash looked terrible. Even though you had done your best with it, you knew you should have gone for stitches. But you also knew it was too late for that now.

After a moment of contemplation, you decided to keep Noah in bed with you for the night. You opened up your email one more time with the arrival instructions from Bradley even though you had them memorized. But you didn't want to mess this up.

When you got to work the next morning, while you were still trying to decide if you should report the break in, another layer of embarrassment was added. Dr. Kelly pulled you aside and glanced down at your hand as she said, "Would you like me to take a look at that?"

You'd done a pretty terrible job of bandaging it up on your own. "Sure," you said softly, and she unwrapped it and winced.

"This didn't happen at work, did it?"

"No," you replied quickly. "At home."

She met your eyes with startled ones. "This is a nasty, irregular cut. You live with your boyfriend, correct?" When you nodded, she added, "If there's any sort of issue with... violence at home, please know that you can always come to me."

Your jaw dropped open, and you gasped. "No! He's not even here, he's deployed! It was an accident!"

"Okay," she said right away. "I believe you. Let me get it cleaned up. It's looking angry, and you should have probably gone somewhere for stitches over the weekend."

Instead of responding, you silently followed her to one of the exam rooms where she carefully disinfected your palm and applied an adhesive that would work on your skin. "I can reapply it later this week for you."

"Thanks." As you got back to work, you were starting to think you should have reported the incident with the police. Panic rose inside you as you were instructed to prepare some vaccination syringes for the ten year old in exam room five.

Should you wait until Bradley got home on Wednesday? Should you call the police after work today? Your cut up hand was bad enough, but Noah could have been the one who got hurt. And you'd honestly never be able to forgive yourself if something happened to him. You had protected him from Meredith in the park, so why was this any different?

You rushed back to Bradley's house after work and ran inside, completely exasperated by his old man tendencies. You had to search for the list of phone numbers he gave you which would have been much better if he just saved them to your contacts in your phone.

Noah needed to be picked up in the next forty minutes, and you didn't know how long she would be in her office, but you tried to reach Tracy anyway. When you gave your name to her receptionist, you were shocked that he put you right through to Bradley's lawyer.

"I hope Bradley thanked you for me. The Red Bulls were very sweet of you."

You laughed at Tracy in spite of the fact that you felt like crying. "It's the least I could do." Then you took a deep breath and said, "I was wondering if there is any way you can help me? I don't want to end up with Bradley having to pay you if you give me advice over the phone or anything like that. But I think I need some help right now even though he should be back on Wednesday."

"Your boyfriend basically has me on retainer for you. What do you need?" Tracy asked.

"Retainer?" you asked. No, that couldn't be right.

"I was given explicit instructions to help you with anything you might call about. We're not going to worry about any billing, because he certainly wasn't worried, okay? What can I do for you?"

You sucked in a deep breath as you paced around the kitchen. You felt defeated. That damn USB drive was on top of the refrigerator. The coffee machine you could barely figure out how to use was on the counter. The list of phone numbers in Bradley's handwriting was on the table. So you walked out back and forced yourself to say, "I think Meredith broke into my rental which I had already moved out of. And I saw her at a gas station before that."

There was a long enough pause that you were about to repeat yourself, but then she said, "I think that if she did break into your rental, it was purely out of spite. Because I actually have some news about Meredith that I was waiting to tell Bradley. But I think you and I should have a conversation first, and then you should decide if you want to call the police."

---------------------------

Bradley just wanted to get off this aircraft carrier. He had one night left in this fucking bunk with Carl, and then he could go home to his cozy house and sweet son and your warm, welcoming body. Maybe you'd let him snuggle with you and Noah on the couch, and then after Noah's bedtime, he could take you to bed. He couldn't stop thinking about every single way he wanted to have you. And then he could fall asleep with you wrapped up in his arms and your soft breath on his skin.

He was almost getting hard just thinking about it. It had been a long time since he had someone to come home to, someone who was waiting just for him. He felt like he wanted to reward you for it. God, he wanted to give you everything. He had to tuck his hands up behind his head in his bunk and force himself to try to go to sleep. But he dreamed about your voice and your fingertips on his face.

The following day went quickly as they docked in the afternoon. Once he was able to text you, Bradley was pleased to see that you were more responsive.

I'm docked, Princess. We got in a little early, but I haven't deboarded yet. I know you're at work, but I can't wait to see you whenever you can come pick me up.

My Princess: I'll be there by four with Noah. We missed you so much!

When he was able to finally collect his things and start down the ramp, Bradley's heart was thudding in his ears. It wasn't four o'clock yet, and he knew he might have to wait for you to get there, but then he was pleasantly surprised. As he started walking along the fence to the parking lot, he spotted his Bronco in the last aisle. You had parked it away from everything and everything else, and that brought a smile to his face.

And then he saw you, carrying Noah and hurrying toward him in your new work scrubs that he hadn't even seen yet. A smile broke out on his face as he rushed to close the distance. "Noah! Princess!"

"Daddy!" Noah squealed with delight, practically jumping from your arms to his. Bradley wrapped Noah up in his right arm and kissed him all over his face, reaching for you at the same time with his free hand. "I love you, Bub. Did you have fun with Princess?"

But you hesitated. And when Bradley met your eyes, he was still reaching for you, but you were only very slowly stepping toward him. "Come here," he rasped, slipping his arm around your waist until you were snug at his side. "I love you." Those words seemed to do the trick as you melted against him, and your chin tipped up as you looked at him.

"I missed you so much," you told him, your voice soft and maybe a little sad? And Bradley kissed you hard and heady in front of everyone including Noah, letting his hand rest on the swell of your butt. He didn't care. You belonged with him. He wanted you there forever.

But even though you were clinging to his uniform shirt now and returning his kisses with a soft moan, he could tell you were holding back. He trailed a few kisses along your jaw back toward your ear and whispered, "I love you, Baby," and you shivered for him. But when he reached for your hand, he found it was bandaged up. And you looked at him with barely concealed frustration. He could just tell something was wrong.

"What happened?" he asked, repositioning Noah in his arm and letting his son's cheek rest on his shoulder. He kissed your fingers and ran his thumb along the bandage. "What's wrong with your hand?"

You tried to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you. "Can we talk about it later? Tonight?"

"Yeah," he agreed, suddenly even more apprehensive. "We can."

"Great," you replied, leading the way to the Bronco with your fingers loosely tangled with his. And while Bradley walked with his lips pressed to his son's forehead and his duffle bag on his back, he was worried about you.

You were still quiet when the three of you pulled into the driveway and headed inside. "I have a lasagna ready to go in the oven," you told Bradley when he followed you into the kitchen. "Should we start doing your laundry?"

He laughed softly as he put Noah down in one of the chairs and dropped his bag to the floor. "Princess," he whispered, reaching for your soft cheek. "Baby, I don't care about my laundry. I don't even really care about dinner, but I love that you have something ready to go. I just want you to tell me what's bothering you."

He watched you swallow hard, and he thought he saw your eyes dart toward the top of the refrigerator. "Bradley," you muttered.

"You know I thought about you nonstop, right?" he whispered, remembering how it felt to have his fist connect with Carl's face as he made sure he got his polaroid back. "On repeat. I just wanted to be home." He kissed your lips over and over again, stroking your soft skin with his thumb. "So I'll take care of whatever has you upset. You know I will."

You just nodded and let your eyes flutter closed. And all you offered him was one word. "Later."

After dinner was eaten and cleaned up, Bradley spent some extra time giving Noah a bath. The tub was absolutely filled with toys, and Bradley ended up removing his soaking wet undershirt, kneeling on the floor in just his underwear and service khakis. "I missed you so much," he said, kissing his son over and over again. "But I know you had fun with Princess."

Noah held out a green duckie for Bradley to take before he said, "I want Princess to be my mommy."

Bradley met brown eyes that matched his, and he easily said, "I do too, Bub. She would be really good at it." You already were good at it. But something was wrong, and he needed to figure it out. The two of you weren't acting the way he had hoped you would after being apart for weeks. And now he was questioning whether or not you'd actually want to marry him someday.

It was late. Definitely after Noah's usual bedtime. He was yawning now, but Bradley had been so excited to see him, he let him stay up. With one more big yawn, Bradley scooped his son out of the tub with a towel and drained the water. Then he stopped in the living room where you were sitting on the couch, and he let Noah give you a goodnight kiss. And he leaned down and kissed your cheek as well. "I'll be back out in a minute. We'll talk."

"Okay," you said softly, and then Bradley was thankful that Noah was already falling asleep as soon as he was in bed. On his way back out to the living room, he stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of merlot and a bag of Skittles he had stashed away.

After he opened the bottle and took a sip, he met you in the living room. Your gaze took in his naked torso as you bit your lip, and when he handed you the wine with no glass, you took a sip from the bottle as well.

"Let's talk?" he asked, settling down next to you. He opened the bag of candy and patted his thigh. "And snuggle? I've been saving the wine and Skittles for our reunion, but you'll have to remind me which color goes best with merlot."

He could tell you were trying not to smile as you scooted across the couch and onto his lap while you sipped the wine. "Red, Daddy. Red Skittles pair with merlot."

"Yes," he rasped, kissing the side of your neck. "That's right. Now that I'm all yours again, just like I'm supposed to be, why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"

You handed him the bottle in favor of the candy, and you crunched on a few pieces before you said, "I moved all of my stuff in. And I used your address for my new hire paperwork."

Bradley had to hold back a moan. That sounded so fucking perfect to him, he wanted to take you on the floor right now, right in the middle of the area rug. But instead he just tightened his arm around your waist. "Mmhmm, you know just want to say to make me happy. And you did so great with Noah. I knew you would be perfect, Princess."

But then you met his eyes and held up your bandaged hand. "I had to call Tracy on Monday," you said, and Bradley's heart dropped.

"Why?"

You pressed your lips together and looked down at the bottle of wine before taking it from his hand and drinking some more. "I saw Meredith at the gas station near Noah's daycare," you whispered, your voice soft and harsh.

"She broke the restraining order?" he growled. "What the fuck?"

"It was just a gas station," you replied quietly. "And I think she was already there when I pulled in." Bradley was about to rage, but then you kept going. "But then someone broke into my rental, and I cut my hand when Noah was with me. And it must have been Meredith, so I called Tracy, because you weren't here, and I wasn't sure what to do." When you took a deep breath there was a little sob with it that made Bradley clench with the need to protect you.

"Shit! I wish you didn't have to do this by yourself," he replied, heart skipping faster. "But I'm proud of you. What did Tracy say about Meredith?"

"She helped me file a police report, and they said they are looking for evidence, but my landlord is pissed off that the window is broken. He was supposed to have a new renter move in this week, and he's threatening me about paying for another month. He told me to fix the glass, but the police won't even let me. And you and I are supposed to go meet up with Tracy tomorrow." You hiccupped when you finished talking.

"Shh," Bradley said, setting the bottle down on the end table and pulling you to his body so your cheek came to rest on his chest. "Baby, I'll take care of it. But back up, and go slow. Did Meredith threaten you or Noah?"

You shrugged against his body, and Bradley focused on every single word you had to say about the gas station and your broken windowpane and the note that was left. And how the police and Tracy both agreed that there's probably not enough evidence to prove anything one way or the other. And then you seemed wrung out as a tear slid down your cheek when you said, "Tracy did tell me that Meredith was on trial for the fraud charges I brought up against her during the custody hearing. When I saw her at the gas station, she told me I ruined her life. And then my window was smashed, probably just because she's such a horrible bitch."

"Make sense," he mumbled against your hair. No wonder he had several unread emails from Tracy that he knew he still needed to go through. Shit. You'd dealt with an awful lot in his absence. He wondered if that meant Meredith was being sentenced. "And we have an appointment with Tracy tomorrow?"

"Yes," you whispered, curling up tighter against his body. "During my lunch break."

"Okay." He kissed your forehead and ran his hands up and down your back. "I'm still off tomorrow. I'll drop you off at work in the morning, and then I'll come back for you whenever you want. And we'll go talk to Tracy, and I promise you, I will take care of everything." You were practically shaking as he added, "Because you take care of us."

You were nodding as you finally looked up at him, and as angry as Bradley was about more bullshit from Meredith, you and Noah were safe. And Tracy would probably have more information for him tomorrow. But right now, you needed someone to take care of you for a minute. "I love you," he promised, considering how exhausted you looked. "Let's take a shower and get in bed?"

Whether you were nodding in agreement or because you were still shaky, Bradley wasn't sure. But he carried you into the bathroom and set you down gently as he turned the shower on. Once you were undressed he helped you in and carefully unwrapped the bandage on your hand. There was a jagged cut on your palm that made his heart lurch. "I'll clean it and rebandage it, Princess," he said, trying to hide the anger in his voice. You didn't deserve any of the shit you'd repeatedly gone through since you met him.

"Okay," you whispered, and as soon as he was out of his khakis and underwear, you were pulling him in with you. Bradley was helpless in his feelings for you. Very carefully, he took his time and washed you so you didn't irritate your cut further. And he let himself just enjoy the feel of your body against his as he gently held your hand.

When he turned the shower off, he wrapped you in a towel and carried you to the bedroom. Everything looked exactly as it should: your purple crown was on his bedpost, everything was tidy, and the bed looked inviting. But you still didn't look relaxed as he helped you into his gray sweatpants and a soft undershirt before bandaging your hand again.

"What will make you feel better?" he asked, pulling on clean underwear as you climbed into bed. "Tell me, and I'll do it. I just want you to know how much I missed you and how happy I am that you moved all your stuff in while I was away."

You peeled the blanket back on his side of the bed and whispered, "Snuggle with me?"

You looked so perfect and innocent, and Bradley slid in bed with you and collected you in his arms. "Come here, Baby. Let me tell you how much I love you."

----------------------------

You started to fall asleep in Bradley's arms while he rubbed small circles on your back through his undershirt which you were wearing. You had been on the brink of erupting into tears all night, and you hadn't even mentioned the USB drive. And now that he was home, you didn't know if you were strong enough to bring it up at all.

If he knew it was in that box in the attic, then you were going to make a fool of yourself. And if he forgot about its existence, he was going to think you were snooping through his things even though he gave you permission to use the attic. Either way, you weren't going to mention it, at least not yet.

There were too many other things to think about anyway. Like whether or not the police found anything in your rental. And how you were going to fix the window. And if Meredith was actually going to attempt something with you or Noah, or if she was just bitter that she might be facing jail time.

"Daddy," you whispered, and Bradley's arm tightened around you as he kissed the top of your head.

"Just sleep, Baby. I'll be right here."

As you dozed off, you realized you didn't have to be on full alert at the moment. For the first night in so long, you could just sleep and know he was with you and Noah. And then you were out.

Next thing you knew, it was light inside the bedroom, and Bradley was waking you up with gentle kisses on your face. You reached for him, and then his body weight was on top of you as he chuckled. "Baby, we'll be late."

"Good, I want to stay in bed all day," you whined, but soon you were dressed in your scrubs and making breakfast while Bradley got Noah ready for daycare. You hated the way you felt like you were holding back being as physical as you wanted to be with your boyfriend.

And then a flash of panic shot through you. He must have been expecting you to have sex with him last night, when instead you fell asleep as a bundle of nerves. You were still a bundle of nerves, but now you felt like crying as well. But he was acting so normal when he brought Noah into the kitchen to eat pancakes. "Just leave the mess in the sink, and I'll take care of it later," he said casually, reaching for your good hand to give you another kiss.

But you were thinking about the USB drive, and your meeting with Tracy and your job. And you barely kissed him back this time. "Okay," you agreed before picking at your breakfast.

Bradley looked concerned now, and he continued to look concerned a little later as he pulled into Noah's daycare parking lot. "I can take him in," you muttered, but he had already turned off the Bronco's engine.

"Let's go together," he replied, eyeing you skeptically as he climbed out to get Noah. And when you were walking in, side by side, Bradley asked, "Will you tell me what else is on your mind?"

You just shook your head, because you didn't want to get into this right now. But he took your hand anyway. And of course the same girl was working at the front desk with her clipboard.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw! Good morning!"

"Hi, Casey," he replied smoothly, his fingers laced with yours.

"How was your deployment? We really missed you here." She gave you some serious side eye, and you just knew she wished you weren't even around.

"It was fine," he replied, setting Noah down and kissing him. And then Noah turned to you for a hug before he walked back to the playroom. Then Bradley tugged you a little closer to him and wrapped his arm around you before signing the clipboard with the back of your body snug up against the front of his. He kissed your neck while Casey watched. "Let's go before you're late for work, Princess," he whispered next to your ear.

He handed the clipboard to Casey without even looking at her, and you were so mixed up inside, you wanted to scream. Five minutes ago, you were dreading the idea of being intimate with Bradley without showing him the USB drive first, and now you wanted to fuck him in the front seat of the Bronco.

"Listen," he said, voice stern as he pulled out into traffic and headed toward your medical complex. "Something is bugging you. I want you to be honest with me. After we talk to Tracy together, you and I are having a conversation later today. And by the end of that conversation, I want you and I to feel the way we are supposed to feel again. Because you moved all your stuff into the house, which I think is us officially taking the next step in our relationship. And I'm used to feeling comfortable when I'm with you. Okay?"

You pressed your lips together. There was no getting around it now. "Yes."

-----------------------------

"I really like Tracy and all, but I was hoping I'd never have to come here again," Bradley said as you and he rode the elevator up to her office.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, running your hands down the front of your now wrinkly scrubs. "It's probably my fault."

Bradley did a double take. "Your fault? How would this possibly be your fault, Baby?"

You sighed and exited the elevator, and Bradley just wanted you to look happy again. "Because I'm the one who mentioned all of Meredith's insider trading and shady deals in the first place."

"Hey," he said, leading you down the hallway with his hand at your back. "This is one hundred percent Meredith's fault. And the fraud charges were probably coming whether or not we said anything about it during the custody hearing."

Then Tracy's receptionist was waving the two of you past his desk without question, and Bradley thought that was either a very good or a very bad sign.

"Meredith is in custody," Tracy announced as soon as her office door was closed behind Bradley.

You gasped and said, "She's in prison."

"Yes. Now have a seat," she replied, pointing to the small conference table. "Because we have some things to discuss. Welcome home, Bradley." Then she set down a copy of Meredith's mugshot and arrest information.

"What a warm welcome," he muttered, skimming the paperwork. "She turned herself in?"

"She did," Tracy told him, taking the empty seat across the table and cracking open a Red Bull. "Probably broke the window at your place for fun as her last hurrah before turning herself in."

"Did the police find anything?" you asked her. "My landlord is so mad about the window."

Tracy just kind of shrugged. "Like I told you before, it's probably a lost cause. Nobody picked anything up on a doorbell camera, and it's impossible to tell exactly when it happened since you haven't actually been living there for a few months." You nodded, and then Tracy asked, "But if they do find evidence, would you like to press charges?"

"No," you replied immediately, and Bradley leaned in a little closer.

"Are you sure? We can absolutely press charges if you want to."

"Come on, Bradley," you said quietly, even though Tracy could still hear. "I don't want to cost you any more money. And I can't afford Tracy on my own."

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and he leaned in even closer to you. How many times had the two of you had this fucking conversation? Too many for him to keep track of, and it annoyed him every single time. "Look at me," he whispered when you started to turn away. As soon as you met his eyes again, he kissed you softly. But his voice was rough around the edges as he said, "I would defend you with my life. Why would my money be any different? Why is that the thing that is always too much for you?"

With a soft gasp, you gaped at him. "Your life?"

"Yes, of course," he said, brow furrowed. "So I really need you to stop making a fuss about everything else. Because it doesn't matter compared to you. Or compared to Noah. Or compared to us. And I'm getting pretty fucking sick of having this conversation over and over again with you."

"Bradley," you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chanced a glance at Tracy, but she was simply scrolling on her phone now. And he could hear tears in your voice as you said, "Money isn't as important as you either."

"Exactly," he growled, holding you tight. "Fuck, Princess... don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry. I'm sorry. But if you want to press charges, if there's even a reason to press charges, I will gladly pay for Tracy. She's expensive as hell, because she's very good."

"That's right," Tracy murmured, still scrolling.

You pulled away from him and kissed his scarred cheek a few times before you said, "Can I think about it? I mean, Meredith was probably just acting like a petty bitch because she could."

"We can wait for a police report," Tracy supplied, setting down her phone. "And I can get more information about Meredith as well."

You nodded and looked up at Bradley. "That's what I want to do."

"Then that's what we'll do," he agreed right away.

"Tracy, do you know when I'll be able to replace the window? My landlord is threatening me with another month of rent."

She just snorted. "Send me a copy of your lease agreement. I'll make him cry."

When the three of you stood, Bradley could tell you seemed more relaxed, and he kissed the now dry tears from your cheek. "How much do I owe you for today?" Bradley asked Tracy as he took your bandaged hand in his.

"No worries. I'll bill you."

"Worth every cent," Bradley told you once again as you rode the elevator back down.

You had your head resting on his chest as you pulled out your phone, and he could see your screen as you said, "Dr. Kelly texted me. She told me to just take the rest of the afternoon for myself."

"Do you want to head home?" he asked as you tucked your phone away again.

"Yeah, I'll make us lunch."

"Perfect," he replied. "And then we can talk."

And you seemed fine on the way home, changing radio stations in the Bonco and talking about how you hoped Meredith would have to serve the full fifteen years she was being threatened with. Bradley didn't really give much of a fuck about Meredith as long as you felt safe and happy. As long as things went back to normal for the three of you.

But as soon as you walked into the kitchen, you seemed apprehensive once again. He watched you carefully get some butter and cheese out of the refrigerator, claiming you were in the mood for a grilled cheese sandwich. But then you tossed everything onto the counter and spun to face him.

"I can't take it any more, okay?" You were nearly shouting at him, fists clenched at your sides. Your pretty face was all pinched like you were in pain.

"What?" Bradley asked, rushing to you. "What's wrong?" And then he saw one rogue tear streak down your cheek. Something was making you cry again, and he needed to know what it was.

"She's so many things that I know are horrible, but she's also so many things that I wish I could be... but I'm just not." You took a deep breath and reached up on your tiptoes to take something down from the top of the refrigerator. "I just want to know why it's here, okay?" you asked him, your hands shaking as you reached out with a blue USB drive on your bandaged palm. "Just don't lie to me about why you have this, Bradley. I know it's a few years old, but I just don't understand why you had it in the attic with Noah's baby clothes."

He took it in his own hand, and it seemed familiar. When he looked up and met your eyes, you were crying and trying to swipe the tears away. "I'm confused..."

You pointed at his laptop which was charging on the table, and said, "Just tell me the truth," as you sobbed.

Bradley opened the computer and tried to keep a wary eye on you at the same time. But as soon as he inserted the USB drive and the folder automatically opened up, he heard you softly say, "I can't," before you rushed out of the room.

He was still baffled as he tapped on the video thumbnail. And then he wanted to throw the computer across the room. His blood ran cold as he remembered making this video. The details were hazy, but when he heard himself tell Meredith that he loved her, he wrenched the drive back out of the laptop and heard it clatter across the floor as he ran after you.

"Princess!"

----------------------------

Fix it now, Daddy!! You better fix it! I hope you enjoy your babysitter story @beyondthesefourwalls and thank you @mak-32

PART 33

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theskit · 1 year

Text

Sticker AU

Important!!!

Direct linking gets rid of the readmore cuts!

If you came here via direct link, or wish to use the direct links to another part of the story, and DO NOT want to spoil the surprise stickers, please click on my blog name to go to the actual post after using the link.

Part 8

《Prev Next》

Once Tim, Bruce, and Damian had returned from patrol Saturday night, it hadn't taken long to catch on that they'd all had an encounter with a mysterious, sticker wielding stranger.

It still sent a small wave of humor through Tim to recall how Bruce had looked, walking through the cave with a sticker proclaiming how many 'goodies' his utility belt had before he'd used an anti-adhesive spray to remove it and the rest of the 'evidence' without risking its destruction.

Damian was still quite adamant that the sticker placed on his katana sheath belonged to him, regardless of if it went with the rest of them into an evidence folder or not.

Pooling their information hadn't resulted in much of a physical description. Tim himself hadn't seen them at all while 'young with blue eyes and dark, possibly-black hair' and 'a sensed presence approximately equivalent to a 12 year old Dick or 14 year old Tim' was not exactly a unique description. Also, he did not need yet another reminder that he was shorter than any other Robin of the same age, thank you, Bruce.

Bruce *had* managed to bring back two blood samples that, while proving a match to each other, were stubbornly refusing to match with much *else*. Including normal human DNA.

The samples somehow had an incredibly mangled DNA strand. Some of it seemed to be *missing* or appeared to be merged with something that the batcomputer outright refused to identify on the first scan. Or the second. The third spit out a partial match to *Lazarus Pit water*. At which point the samples, which had degraded at an exponentially fast rate, were no longer considered by the computer to be a viable DNA sample to analyze.

They couldn't even definitively say the person in question *had* a meta gene, regardless of the odds being in favor of it, (or extremely good stealth tech no one had ever even heard of before) what with the, the, swiss cheese *nonsense* of a DNA strand the analysis had spit out! If the sample on the sticker didn't pull the same results as the ground-collected sample, Tim would have bet money on it being corrupted with something to prevent identification on purpose.

As it was, if the person those blood samples belonged to was not an incredibly sick individual, given the DNA irregularities and the sheer speed of degradation, Tim would be very surprised.

Or they possibly had ties to the League of Assassins, with the partial Lazarus Pit match, though admittedly, the light-heartedness of the stickers made that an incredibly low chance.

This discovery had not proven helpful in getting Bruce to calm down about a young, possibly ill, possibly LoA-adjacent, probably-meta child running around Gotham in the middle of the night, stealing from and pranking every vigilante they came across. The fact that Damian was almost as fixated on finding the child as Bruce came as somewhat more of a surprise, considering. All he would say on the matter was that the level of stealth displayed was quite admirable and worth investing in. Like they needed *more* assassin-trained children running around.

Ugh.

Alfred had eventually been forced to banish both of them upstairs to rest, giving Tim a look that he was choosing not to interpret at the moment. Tim was fine, it hadn't even been *that* long since he'd last slept.

Besides, disregarding the dead-end of the blood samples, there was more than enough information yet to be sorted through.

On top of trying to comb through any possible camera footage in the areas around the incidents, the hotel the sample was found at provided marginally more information. If you counted finding out that a large ghost hunting convention had been scheduled for the long weekend and most of the hotels around the area were booked with *hundreds* of non-local participants to then check up on as a positive information gain. They couldn't even say the hotel the blood samples were found at was the hotel the person in question was staying in. They only knew for certain that it was where the communicator had stopped working.

Plus, the strange way the signal had wavered before cutting out, and the way some of the cameras he had been checking showed nothing but static, pointed to a possibly quite sophisticated piece of jammer technology. Which brought back up the stealth tech option and *more* investigations into where it could have been obtained and who could be producing advanced tech like that.

At least that made the stickers make marginally more sense if they were bought at or created for the convention, though he had already tried to do an online search for the stickers and come up empty handed.

Batman and Robin would be heading out later that evening to see if they could find any new leads or possibly encounter the sticker kid again while Tim continued to track and filter information in the cave.

Stretching a bit and taking a large swig from the not-exactly-Alfred-approved cup of coffee he'd smuggled in, Tim cracked his knuckles and got back to work.

Danny was perfecting his thousand-yard stare off into the distance as his parents corralled yet another poor sap into debating ghosts with them when Jazz swung by the booth to check in. "Hey, Danny. How's it going?"

Danny slowly turned his head to look at her with an expression of immense suffering as he slid a sticker over to her.

Taking a peek at what she'd been handed, Jazz snorted a laugh. "Fair's fair, little brother. Yesterday was my day at the booth, today's yours. Chin up! At least we'll be taking it down and packing it up tonight and tomorrow we can just wander around for the last bit of the convention before we leave."

Danny sighed, "Yeah, at least there's that," he responded glumly. Hopefully, tonight's vigilante adventure would make up for this...

@mygood-bitch99 @stargazer-luna @easily-broken-by-emotion @dolfay @britcision @cyber-geist @is-this-even-relatable @alcorbearson @fisticuffsatapplebees @thegatorsgoose @my-mom-calls-me-rat @some-rotten-nest @crystalqueertea @meira-3919 @wandererofthestars @seraphinedemort @bjurnberg @blep-23 @stargirl1331 @bianca-hooks123 @addie-lover-of-stories @pickleking8 @iconicanemone @sarina-elais @mur-ururu @sailor-goddess @dragonfirefeather @nutcase8691 @ravenpainter @liandrin @jaguarthecat @russetfur1128 @purefrickingspite @oakskull @idfk-man10 @vythika96 @molasses-being-slow @satisfactionbroughtmeback @serasvictoria02 @tkiesai @breesperez139 @dhampir-princess @redhoneysugarorange @gildedphoenix @iglowinggemma28 @f4nd0m-fun @therandomartmaker @mandyne-1001

#dpxdc #theskit writes #Stickers AU #danny makes his own stickers :3 #and now danny is running around gotham like a gremlin #with a pocket full of homemade stickers #whatever will he do with them? 😈

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klausysworld · 5 months

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Hi hi!! I was wondering if you could write a Daddy Klaus fluff where the little reader has a really bad issue with her heart (prone to heart failure and has a defib implant like me) and when she's having a bad anxiety attack he helps calm her down, makes sure her heart is beating okay, etc???

His Sweet Little Heart

Klaus had noticed something off with Y/n's heart since day one when Marcel begrudgingly introduced them. Apparently she was one of Marcels only human friends, and he made it very clear that she wasn’t for Klaus to play with.

“Leave her be, Klaus” he muttered, not a hint of anything other than seriousness as Y/n approached them with a smile.

It only took one incident, Klaus had grabbed the poor girl, threatened her and pushed her into a panic. Marcel quite literally threw Klaus off her and was stroking her hair. After he took Y/n home and came back to yell at the hybrid, he spat out that Y/n had a heart condition and that he wouldn’t allow Klaus or anyone to risk her life.

Klaus didn’t really understand how Marcel and Y/n had become friends, perhaps through Davina who Y/n was also close with as it turned out.

She never spent too much time with Klaus to begin with but once everything happened with the baby, and she was under the impression that he had lost his child to witches, she tried to be as kind as possible to him. Klaus latched onto that kindness quickly.

He fed on it, he needed it. And she was so willing to give in. She’d talk with him for hours, sit and watch him paint and listen to him explain what the paint strokes meant. She would ask if he liked human foods, he said he liked beignets and she offered to go get some but he shook his head. “You do enough sweetheart, I’ll get them for us” he smiled and she softened, nodding and sitting back in the round snuggle chair he had bought for her.

Everything was quite sweet for a while, the Mikaelsons rarely went out and Klaus spent all his time with Y/n.

But then Hope turned out to be alive and suddenly the world was chaos again. Esther, Mikael, Dahlia, and anyone else was at the doorstep. Suddenly Y/n had a target over her head due to her relationship with Klaus and she couldn’t handle that well at all.

Far too often she would be wheezing for air, her heart failing to keep up with her breaths. Klaus would find her just in time, worry spread across his face as he wrapped his arms around her and held her in his lap. “It’s okay” he whispered “it’s okay, I’m sorry” he repeated, stroking her hair. His attention would be solely focused on her heart, waiting for it to beat correctly. There were few occasions when the fear settled in and he would pick her up, promising it was okay and speeding her to a hospital to make sure she was actually alright.

They always said to keep away from stressful situations.

Klaus never knew how to respond to that.

Often he would suggest she stay indoors, in his room preferably but that upset her. She wasn’t incapable and he knew that but he didn’t know how else to keep her safe.

Sometimes she would get herself so worked up about not being able to help that she’d push herself into a panic or anxiety attack. The first time it happened, Klaus had thought someone hurt her and was desperately trying to find a wound on her but after they kept happening and she refused to talk about it, he knew what was happening. And it scared him as much as it did her.

He would sit and listen to her heart weakly patter in her chest, the irregular pattern became familiar to him and alarm bells rang as soon as it went away from its peculiar rhythm.

On instinct he would scoop her into his lap, hips lips would find her face and soft words would be whispered into her ear. Gently he would caress his hand over the spot where her heart lay, waiting for it to calm down. “It’s alright my sweet little heart, let Daddy hold you” He would soothe quietly, his face nuzzling into her neck.

He sighs a sigh of relief when she snuggles back against him, her heart stabilising and her breaths coming out slower. “Mm sorry daddy” she would whisper but Klaus would always shake his head

“Don’t be sorry for something that’s not your fault” he would tell her with a loving smile and a soft kiss. Her head would rest against his chest and he would hum softly while picking her up and carrying her to their bed or the sofa so that they could be together and bask in the warmth of the other.

(It’s short but it’s something 😄 Once again struggling to write. That’s a lie, I’m struggling to write on here, Im actually trying to plan out a proper book that I wanna write one day. Probably won’t happen but it’s nice to have goals?)

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vioartemis · 1 year

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I’ll die with you

(Tara Carpenter x fem! reader)

Summary: Months after the 2022 massacre, you reunite with someone dear to you. But the happiness in only temporary; a new killer is targeting you. Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 a/n: This will probably be a multi chapters story with very irregular posting :)) Warnings: blood, injuries, Ghostface stuff, angst (English isn't my first language, I'm sorry if there are mistakes or if something doesn't make sense TvT)

"Hey, I'm not going to disappear okay?"

You laughed as your girlfriend pouted when you pushed her away gently. You were lying on her bed, her on top of you kissing you desperately as if you were about to vanish.

"It's just two days Tara, maybe less knowing her"

"Well that's still too long! Who's going to cuddle with me if you're not here? And my morning kiss?"

"I'll make up this, I promise" you kiss her "After this weekend"

She groaned slightly, disappointed. But she knew it was important for you.

"Can we stop talking now? I want to enjoy our last moment together..."

"Don't be dramatic, it's not our last moment together. When you say it like that it looks like we will never see each other again..."

She didn't answer and kissed you again, desperately.

You hadn't been separated in a while since the... incident. You were so used to be on each other all day it was hard being without her for too long.

Her lips were soon on your neck, placing hot, wet kisses here, sucking dark purple marks there, hands everywhere on you. You let out a sight, fingers tangled in her hair.

"Tara..."

She hummed against your skin, hands sliding under your shirt. You felt her smile on your shoulder when she felt you shivering under her cold fingers.

You arrived late at the train station, hair still a little messy. You rolled down your window and looked around for the person you were waiting. She wasn't difficult to spot with her blue suit.

You texted her you were there. She looked up, and starting walking toward you, a smile replacing her previous frown.

"Where did you get that car? Are you even allowed to drive it?" she asked as she took place next to you

"I stole it"

She gave you a "are you serious" look. You rolled your eyes, smiling.

"I'm kidding, I bought it. And yes, I have a licence"

You started to drive home calmly.

"How was New York?" you asked

"Oh you know, with work I don't really have time to visit"

"You know that's not what I meant"

"I know"

"... It's going to get better right...? Does it ever go away...?"

"Not completely, never. It's normal to feel that way. You cared about him, we both did. Time will ease the pain, but he will still be in our hearts. Forever"

She had never been good at reassuring anyone, but this time she found the right words.

Months after, your dad's death still hurt. It was normal, you knew it. You wanted to get over it, like everyone told you, but there was always that part of yourself that still believed he would come home.

"I'm back" he would say with a smile "Sorry I made you wait, the delivery guy forgot the sauce, again"

But that never happened. It never would.

With your mom out of town, you didn't think too much about him. Or at least that's what you said not to worry Tara. Now that she was back, even if it was only a weekend, the good old days came back, flashing before your eyes.

You parked in front of the house, tears in your eyes.

"How can you not cry...?" you asked with a nervous laugh, trying to light up the mood

"I'm Gale Weathers, I don't cry. Not in public"

"Of course, why did I even asked?"

You both smiled a little, getting out of the car and inside the house.

You started making diner, telling her some things you learnt while she was gone, trying to give her ideas for a new novel.

"Why don't you tell me about your life? It would make an interesting book. A spicy one for sure"

So she saw the hickeys.

"Mom!"

You blushed hard, embarrassed.

"No you're right, writing about people only attracts psychos. I wouldn't want your girlfriend or you getting hurt"

"Thank you?"

You both laughed and had a good time watching your favorite series while eating, until her phone rung.

"What does he wants? I told him I was off this weekend" she mumbled

"Pick up"

"What?"

"Maybe it's important"

She looked at you for a second, before getting up and taking the call. When she came back, you already knew what she was going to say.

"They learnt I was back here and now they want me to-"

"I know. It's fine, we had a good time, you can go"

"I'm sorry Y/n..."

She hugged you tight.

"You're Gale Weathers, the best reporter. No wonder everyone wants you"

She smiled a little, relieved you weren't mad, and was quick to go.

It always ended up that way with her. But it wasn't her fault. You knew she ment it when she said she was sorry.

You sighed and called your girlfriend.

"Guess who has to work even on her days off?" you said when she picked up

"She's gone already?"

"Yep. That was quicker than I thought... want to come over to keep me company?"

"Is that even a question? I'm on my way, wait for me baby"

You smiled at her words.

"Don't hang up, I want to talk to you on your way here"

"Oh yeah? What are you gonna tell me? Tease me?"

"Maybe..." you said innocently

The landline suddenly started ringing, making you jump.

"Shit"

"What's going on?"

"Landline. Who still uses this?" you mumbled

You walked to the phone and picked up, putting Tara on speaker so you could still hear her.

"Hello?"

"Is this uh... Y/n Riley?"

"Depends. What do you want?"

"You ordered something on our website, it should be there"

"Why do you call me for that?"

"Well... I think we send you the wrong package..."

"Y/n what's going on? Who is it?"

You texted your girlfriend about the situation while talking with the guy.

"I suppose you want me to check?"

"Yep"

"And uh... what did I ordered again? I don't remember"

"I think it was... a painful death."

You hang up immediately and let go of the phone. A voice changer. He was using a fucking voice changer.

"Baby! Is everything okay?"

"Yeah... just a stupid guy using a voice changer for a stupid prank..."

"Are you sure of that?"

The voice came from behind you. You turned around so quickly your neck hurt.

You felt your heart drop in your chest when you saw a tall, dark silhouette looking at you through a Ghostface mask.

"Hello, Y/n"

You were frozen in place, incapable of moving. The Ghostface took a step closer to you, tilting his head slightly, knife in hand.

That's when your legs came back. You ran as quickly as you could, trying to tell Tara on the phone.

"Tara it's Ghostface! Fuck I-"

You couldn't finish your sentence. He grabbed you violently by the waist, making you let go of your phone. It slid on the floor.

He stabbed your abdomen, a hand over your mouth. You let out a muffled scream, and tried to escape his strong grip.

You managed to bit his hand, hard. He kicked you forward, swearing under his breath.

You barely had time to grab a lamp nearby and turn around that he was already on you again, fingers wrapping around your neck, choking you.

You dropped the lamp as he lifted you up before pressing your back against the chimney. Breathing was becoming difficult. To make things better, he sank his blade into you again, twisting it painfully this time. Blood splattered on the floor.

You struggled against him, trying to get his hand off of your neck. But he was stronger than you, you couldn't do anything.

You reached behind you, desperate, when your hands found what you thought was a vase. With all the strength you still had, you slammed it on his head.

His stumbled backward, holding his head, letting you fall to the ground. You gasped for air but didn't waste more time and staggered up.

You tried to reach your phone on the way to the door, but you were pushed to the ground. You started crawling, tears flooding down your cheeks.

"Tara help!" you yelled, voice broken

Ghostface grabbed your hair and tugged your head backward harshly, one of his knees on your back to keep you on the floor.

"No one can save you. You will die alone, just like your father."

He slammed your head against the floor. You let out a cry which only grew bigger when he stabbed you on your side. He did it again. And again. And again. You were coughing blood at this point.

You didn't want to die. You couldn't die. You were screaming for help, crying and bleeding on the floor, Ghostface on top of you. You could still hear Tara's voice on the phone, a few meters away.

He pulled on your hair again, slamming your head on the floor once more. You started to feel dizzy. Everything was blurred around you, your ears were ringing.

So that's the end... you thought as he pulled your head back up.

"Tara..." you let out in a breath

He slammed your head back down again, harder than before.

I love you, was what you wanted to say. But everything turned black before you could open your mouth again.

When she arrived at your house, heart beating faster than ever, hands shaking, she saw him. Tall. Black costume. Bloody knife. He was running away.

Then her eyes fell on your body, lying in a pool of blood in your living room.

"Y/n!"

She ran to you, turning you around so you were on your back. Your face was covered in blood, fresh tears on your cheeks. She looked at you in horror. Her worst nightmare just became real.

Your necklace with her initial, stained with your blood, was hanging lazily around your neck, red from earlier.

Tears were rolling down her cheeks when she tried to take your pulse. She gasped when she felt it. She held your head with one hand, the other taking one of your own.

"Baby please stay with me... I called an ambulance it will be here any minute now..."

She had almost lost her voice from screaming when you were being attacked. Hearing you cry for help and not being able to to anything had killed her.

When the ambulance arrived, you were still unconscious in her arms. They forced her to back up while they were taking care of you. She didn't want to. She needed to be close to you. But they didn't let her.

From where she was, she could hear their conversation. It only made her heart ache.

"We're losing her! Get ready to shock her! 1, 2, 3, go!"

"She's losing too much blood!"

After what felt like an eternity, they put you on a stretcher into an ambulance. Tara made her way to you but was stopped quickly.

"You can't go further miss."

"Is she alive?" she asked, panicked

"She was clinically dead for 3 minutes. But we brought her back. Now if you want her to live have to take her to the hospital. And no, you can't come with us, we need to be by her side. You will see her at the hospital"

They left her here, crying on the sidewalk in front of your house. After a minute, she headed to the hospital, walking as fast as her legs allowed.

Once she was there, she was told she couldn't see you yet. She tried to argue, but that was useless. She "would only have to wait a little" as the lady said.

She took the opportunity to call your mother, your friends, and her sister to tell them everything.

The first to arrive was your mom, as expected. She seemed devastated. She got mad when she learnt she couldn't see you right now and started yelling at the lady before Tara dragged her away.

They had to wait half an hour before someone told them they could see you. You were still asleep, but your life wasn't in danger anymore.

Tara sat next to you and took your hand, stroking it gently, while Gale sat on the other side, watching you with tears in her eyes.

"... Can you watch her for a minute...? I have to tell Sidney..." she asked your girlfriend

"I'll call you if she wakes up"

She thanked her and got out of the room, taking her phone with shaking hands.

You would soon wake up, not believing you were still alive, and burst into tears in your girlfriend's arms only able to think about one thing; you had a killer on the hunt again.

[Next part]

#tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #scream #scream 5

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contemplatingoutlander · 7 months

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Amazon’s Alexa has been claiming the 2020 election was stolen

The popular voice assistant says the 2020 race was stolen, even as parent company Amazon promotes the tool as a reliable election news source -- foreshadowing a new information battleground

This is a scary WaPo article by Cat Zakrzewski about how big tech is allowing AI to get information from dubious sources. Consequently, it is contributing to the lies and disinformation that exist in today's current political climate.

Even the normally banal but ubiquitous (and not yet AI supercharged) Alexa is prone to pick up and recite political disinformation. Here are some excerpts from the article [color emphasis added]:

Amid concerns the rise of artificial intelligence will supercharge the spread of misinformation comes a wild fabrication from a more prosaic source: Amazon’s Alexa, which declared that the 2020 presidential election was stolen. Asked about fraud in the race — in which President Biden defeated former president Donald Trump with 306 electoral college votes — the popular voice assistant said it was “stolen by a massive amount of election fraud,” citing Rumble, a video-streaming service favored by conservatives.

The 2020 races were “notorious for many incidents of irregularities and indications pointing to electoral fraud taking place in major metro centers,” according to Alexa, referencing Substack, a subscription newsletter service. Alexa contended that Trump won Pennsylvania, citing “an Alexa answers contributor.”

Multiple investigations into the 2020 election have revealed no evidence of fraud, and Trump faces federal criminal charges connected to his efforts to overturn the election. Yet Alexa disseminates misinformation about the race, even as parent company Amazon promotes the tool as a reliable election news source to more than 70 million estimated users. [...] Developers “often think that they have to give a balanced viewpoint and they do this by alternating between pulling sources from right and left, thinking this is going to give balance,” [Prof. Meredith] Broussard said. “The most popular sources on the left and right vary dramatically in quality.” Such attempts can be fraught. Earlier this week, the media company the Messenger announced a new partnership with AI company Seekr to “eliminate bias” in the news. Yet Seekr’s website characterizes some articles from the pro-Trump news network One America News as “center” and as having “very high” reliability. Meanwhile, several articles from the Associated Press were rated “very low.” [...] Yet despite a growing clamor in Congress to respond to the threat AI poses to elections, much of the attention has fixated on deepfakes. However, [attorney Jacob] Glick warned Alexa and AI-powered systems could “potentially double down on the damage that’s been done.” “If you have AI models drawing from an internet that is filled with platforms that don’t care about the preservation of democracy … you’re going to get information that includes really dangerous undercurrents,” he said. [color emphasis added]

#alexa #ai is spreading political misinformation #2020 election lies #the washington post #cat zakrzewski #audio

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irregularincidents · 1 month

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Oh hey, it's Harry Houdini's 150th Birthday! To celebrate, here's a weird story I found.

A large part of the famous magician and escapologist's act appeared to be folk publicly challenging him to do a particular stunt, which as multiple instances of police departments claiming he couldn't escape their cells, usually as a mutual publicity stunt.

One of the more unusual examples of this came in 1911, when a group of 10 Boston businessmen challenged Houdini to escape from a "sea monster" while also chained hand and foot.

Houdini accepted the challenge, and thousands lined up outside of the BF Keith Theatre to see the magician escape what newsletters speculated was anything from a whale to a large turtle (it was the latter).

And, indeed, a lubricated Harry did escape the turtle, although as it had been embalmed with arsenic (one of the businessmen was a taxidermist), he did confess that in the 15 minutes it took to do so he nearly suffocated from the chemical fumes after an assistant help stuff the chained and handcuffed Houdini in the dead creature in the first place.

#irregular incidents #history #american history #stage magic

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whimsicalwritingsandmore · 2 months

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Want You Back | ateez x reader

Pairing: werewolf!ot8!ateez x werewolf!reader

Genre: fluff mostly, romance, poly, a little angst?

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1317 words

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Epilogue

As if the world had been drained of all its colour, layers of grey, ominous and threatening storm clouds covered the skyline of Seoul with bitter winds shrieking through the city. Flashes of brilliant but powerful and menacing flares of lightning exploded through the sky followed by the force and fury of thunder filling everywhere with its roar.

You’re standing in the centre of the abandoned street and in front of you, is yourself, looking like a ghost of the past, dressed in a beautiful glowy white off-the-shoulder dress of a flowery pattern and smiling at you somberly. You blink thrice, trying to make sense of what you’re seeing.

“It’s time.”

Jolting awake in your seat, you place your hand on your chest to regulate your irregular breathing. It happened again, another nightmare just like every night.

The lights in the plane are dimmed and it’s eerily silent as the rest of the passengers are either asleep or lost in whatever they’re doing. The atmosphere does not help your currently unsettled and uneased state. It’s raining softly outside and though the sound would usually be like a soft lullaby, this time, it instils an unnerving feeling.

Squinting at your phone in your half-conscious state, you note the date and time with a soft sigh escaping your lips; it’s 1AM on the 1st of March 2024. It had become a routine to wake up at this exact time every night. Usually you would be drenched in cold sweat with a flustering feeling of fear slowly creeping in.

Your dreams felt very real, almost like a deja vu. They were ongoing for as long as you could remember. Initially, they started as ambiguous visions which were very vibrant and light. It felt like you were watching a version of yourself grow up in tandem with you. You were in places that sparked a sense of familiarity but you were unable to decipher the locations. In addition, you were meeting people that stirred an ardent feeling, and you felt like you had known them your whole life. You were unaware of who these other persons were. Whenever these particular persons entered, everything became hazy and obscure.

After turning 20, the night terrors began and you experienced an opposite side of these dreams filled with heartbreak, pain and fear. Another group entered and provided some solace but then your most recent dreams consisted of a heart-wrenching and distressing situation where you found yourself laying on the ground covered in blood and ash, gazing at another figure right across from you who is also unconscious. You're calling for them but while your lips move, you can't hear the name. And then you fall into darkness and awake again.

Although you tried to boil down these hallucinations to a simple coincidence, you couldn’t. You were aware of your interesting birth. Firstly, on the night of your birth there was a torrential thunderstorm that appeared unexpectedly and grew into something of such force and fury, it drained the world of all its light. Secondly, in the city of Seoul, there had been a report of an attempted rebellion by an enigmatic group. Not much came out of it as many claimed it was heresy and the media reported it being a disagreement of a rowdy and drunk group of people that got out of control and ended up in property damages.

If that’s the case you shouldn’t be that bothered by it right? Wrong. Turns out, it was one of eight incidents that occurred within a three year span. And every night on your birthday, a dream of yours reaches its peak wherein you find yourself by a lake and a temple, and an apparition of you stands there with a pretty braid and decorated flower crown, and gold eyes staring right back at you with a smile.

You read that gold eyes tended to belong to werewolves.

That’s when your mind would swirl right back to that night in Seoul. Rumours by some fanatics claimed it was an act to start a werewolf war and theorised that’s why there was hardly any evidence or traces. Though you weren’t one to suddenly believe in werewolves, something about that situation felt off to you.

When your parents articulated that your inclusion in the family business after university would primarily entail you overseeing the operations in Seoul, you were more than happy to hop on a plane.

You wanted to know more about that night.

And you weren’t alone in it. Your close friend Bangchan whom you had grown up with, lived in Seoul. He was in a kpop group that currently had some time off before they prepared for their next big venture, a collaboration with two other kpop groups for a variety broadcast feature.

Returning to your seat, you attempted to relax yourself before your touchdown in Seoul.

“Another bad dream?” a voice asked.

Turning to your right, you looked at your father’s trusted secretary who was accompanying you on the trip.

“Just the same old thing Mr Kim.” you answered softly.

Mr Kim had been working with your father for as long as you could remember. He appeared on the doorstep of your home one day with a bright smile, seeking employment as either a gardener or caretaker. Somehow he was able to help your father out of a bind with another company and become his right-hand man in all future business ventures. To you, he seemed like a real leader and was good at taking charge.

“Hm,” he hummed, “What’s the name of Chan’s group again? I can never remember.”

��They’re called Stray Kids,” you respond, pulling out a magazine from your bag, “That’s them.”

Mr Kim surveys the page you’re showing him before continuing.

“And they’re collaborating with two other groups for some showcase?”

“Mhm, one of the groups is called TXT.” you turn the page and point to another group.

“And the other?”

You flip through the pages to locate the other group. Truth be told, this group entices you in a way you can’t explain. But that’s the purpose of kpop groups anyway, as you always tell yourself.

“Ah there they are!” you muse, “That’s them.”

Mr Kim looks at the page and doesn’t say anything. He stares at it wistfully and pensively, tracing a finger over the one in the centre.

“What’s their group name?”

“Ateez,” you answer, “They’re called Ateez.”

Meanwhile, an angel stands near the Moon Goddess looking on at the situation.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I am.” the Moon Goddess answers.

“You’ve reset the timeline, changed the past and altered fate itself. How are you so sure about this?”

“I have not changed fate. They are the makers of their own fate. As for the timeline and the past, well, I’ve simply just tweaked it a bit.”

“Simply t-tweaked-” the angel stammers, “Do you even know what you’re saying?? You drastically changed the whole timeline. I don’t even know how this is going to turn out and neither does the author!”

The Moon Goddess turns to the angel confused, “What are you even saying Dongwook?”

“Nothing, sorry, I blabber nonsense when I’m stressed.”

“Look,” the Moon Goddess begins, “I know you have a lot of questions but be patient. All you need to know for now is that I’ve simply created an alternate timeline of the former and mirrored them, so that the events of the previous have now become their past lives.”

“So what happened in the previous timeline is now mirrored to have occurred on the night of their births?”

“Mhm, they’re right back where they should have been in the former timeline, where they were supposed to stay and settle. Now, they need to find each other again and make amends.”

“And teach those criminals a lesson!” the angel sneers.

“Yes,” the Moon Goddess smiles, “And a lesson they shall receive.”

End of Book 1.

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Book 2 Summary Preview:

A new timeline is created, and a new life awaits you. But your past ghosts haunt you deeply. Given the chance to visit Seoul, you seek answers for your weird dreams, but answers aren't the only thing that awaits you.

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a/n: ahhhhhhh I did it!! I actually completed my first story! didn't expect it to turn out like this but I'm excited to see where it goes :D thank you for joining me so far on this journey. <3 there's a lot I didn't include in book 1 that I know some of you was looking forward to and I'm truly sorry about that. I hope you will stick around for book 2 as I will be incorporating all what was left out. thank you for supporting me and thank you to those who recommended Want You Back in their recs list! :') <3 Stay tuned though! Chapter 1 of my new series The Hybrid House will be published soon! I'll leave a link here and come back to it as soon as it's out. See you soon! <3

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Taglist:

@eastleighsblog @sehun096rainbow @greensnakeglobep @satsuri3su @zonked-times @sugarrush-blush @lomons @explorewithd @chatsgotmytongue @scarfac3 @popcatx0 @angrynightnight @sannieluvrr @idfkeddieishot @alicia-dpa @park-simphwa @puppyminnnie @mysticfire0435 @sundayysunshine @chngbnwf @dementedaly @thunderous-wolf @itsmeregan @cookiechristie @hyukssunflower @lelaleleb

#ateez x reader #ot8 ateez x reader #poly ateez x reader #ateez series #ateez fluff #ateez fanfic #poly!ateez

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markberries · 2 years

Text

take my hand ﹒ ml

synopsis﹕ when you and mark parted ways, you took forever to heal from it. when you see mark onstage again, you're not sure if you ever recovered in the first place.

genre + ﹕ huge amount of angst, fluff at the end (i promise), fem reader, exes to lovers, non idol!reader, idol!mark, best friends johnny + jaehyun

wc ﹕ 6.7k

warnings ﹕ cursing

you always believed in true love.

as cheesy and immature as it sounds, ever since you were in high school, you had felt like you would eventually meet ‘the one’. your mind was set on the idea that through thick and thin, your soulmate would never leave you.

well, you believed that up until you broke up with mark lee.

it all happened seven months ago, when a perfect relationship was ripped to shreds. you had been dating for just over a year when it occurred, and you truly believed that you were meant to be together. the twenty-two year old knew you like the back of his hand, and underneath his socially awkward self, was someone who just wanted to make you happy.

a kpop idol dating a regular, non celebrity individual, was difficult to say the least; it was hard to match up your schedules, but in the end, you two made it work. you never complained about him being too busy, and you often encouraged him to continue doing what he loved. that’s what made you two work so well, the ability to understand each other.

mark was never the type to lash out. in fact, you don’t think you have ever seen him angry before the incident. he would get frustrated, but never angry. and he never took it out on you. with two upcoming comebacks, you knew he would be stressed out, but you tried your best to help him out. you would bring food for all the members at practice, clean up the dorm, and you gave him as much love as possible.

he loved any form of skinship with you, he found it comforting during his difficult times — so you didn’t think twice when you went to go hug him when he came back to the dorm after practice. he opened the door, no one behind him as he seemingly came home early from work that day.

you smiled when you heard the sound of the lock turning, switching your phone off as you ran to the front door to greet him. he looked so exhausted when you finally caught a glimpse of his face. he took off his shoes and hung up his jacket, but as soon as he was finished, you wrapped your arms around him. this time was different. he didn’t even bother hugging you back, instead he basically shrugged you off and walked straight to the dining table.

you didn’t think much of it at the time, you just thought that he had been working too much the past few days so it was fine if he didn’t want to hug you. yes, you were taken aback at first, but you got over it. you followed him, watching him sit down in silence as he ate the food you cooked.

“does it taste okay?” you asked, sitting down across from him. he replied with more silence, barely even sparing you a glance. that’s when you began suspecting something was wrong, and you weren’t sure if it was work or if it was something you did.

you decided not to say anything until he was finished eating, hoping that maybe he would actually respond to you with actual words when he was done. the time is filled with the sound of his chopsticks against his bowl and the car horns honking outside the dorm.

you watched him swallow his last bite and get up to wash his bowl. you take this opportunity to speak again, questioning, “are you okay?”

“fine,” he answered, in almost a snappy tone. he put his now clean bowl back in the cupboard.

“are you sure?” at this point you were beginning to worry a bit more, thoughts raced through your mind, trying to pinpoint the source of his irregular unpleasantness.

“yeah, i said i’m fine.”

what a liar, you thought to yourself as he placed both of his hands on the edge of the counter.

“we both know that isn’t true,” you knew what was coming. although it was rare, you always had a feeling of when you two would argue.

“holy shit, how many times do i need to say it? i’m fine!”

mark’s sudden outburst makes you flinch, and it made you wish that you had just left it alone the first time you asked. despite the volume change in his voice, you continued to speak.

“you know you can tell me anything.. that’s why we’re together.”

you realize your attempt to defuse the situation backfired on you when he turned to you, a nasty glare directed towards you upon his face.

“well maybe i don’t want to tell you everything, why can’t you leave me alone for one fucking second!” he fumed, moving his hands to emphasize his words.

in that moment, you’re scared. he had never yelled at you like that. you wouldn’t view yourself as a sensitive person, but it was mark. you were so afraid of disappointing him that having him raise his voice towards you made you feel like you did.

“d-did i do something wrong?” you managed to say quietly, which made him even more irritated than he already was.

“oh my god, you’re what’s wrong. i just wanted one day where i could come home and relax by myself, but here you are! you always think you’re playing the perfect girlfriend. well you’re wrong.”

you froze, choking back cries and holding back tears. you gripped at the hem of your shirt tightly, your knuckles becoming white, “i’m sorry. i didn’t realize that i was affecting you that much.”

he scoffs, clicking his tongue. “there’s a lot of things that you fail to realize.”

“if you truly feel that way, then maybe we shouldn’t be together at all,” although your reply seems argumentative, it's just you trying to make mark calm down. you’re trying to grasp at strings, you only said that statement in the heat of the moment. you knew, or at least you thought, mark wouldn’t end things just because of one argument.

“maybe we shouldn’t.”

your breathing stops for a single moment. you ask yourself, did i hear that right? but when you see the look on his face, you register that was exactly what he said. when that understanding hits, and it hits you hard, you can’t hold back your teardrops anymore. they fall from your eyes like rain, hitting the polished wooden floors.

you don’t say anything, you just stand up to gather your things and muster out a broken-hearted “okay.”

you feel pathetic seven months later for still thinking about him. he didn’t even bother contacting you after the incident, which makes you wonder how long he was actually thinking about breaking up with you.

of course the other members checked up on you a lot, but you somewhat drifted away from most of them. they always said you were always welcome to come over if mark wasn’t home, but you politely declined. you had been out with them a lot, but recently you have been trying to stay away.

the only people you talk to regularly were jaehyun and johnny, their company was always comforting and they never mentioned mark around you. whenever you hung around the dreamies they always tried to play matchmaker, making up reasons to get you and mark back together.

“should we order food or something?” johnny suggests as he lays on your black l-shaped couch. jaehyun is sitting on the ground, watching a random netflix movie intently with his feet under your coffee table.

“what do you feel like?” you ask, taking a seat next to jaehyun.

they always came over, knowing well that you weren’t comfortable in the dorm anymore. you appreciate how they always keep in mind your feelings and thoughts when it came to mark, they never try to push your boundaries and they wouldn’t bother you about your love life.

“actually i heard about this really good pork katsu place,” jaehyun chimes, turning his head to look at johnny.

“sounds good to me,” you chime.

a sudden noise from johnny’s phone makes you look in his direction. his eyes widen for a split second, but he gets up to answer it right after.

“i’ll order it right after this call,” he says, walking to your hallway. you can’t help but bitterly smile, knowing it was mark. otherwise johnny would have answered it in front of you.

“i’m at her house right now.. yeah she’s doing good,” you hear his voice say to mark on the phone. cute, he was still checking up on you.

jaehyun is fast to try and switch your attention to him, asking, “is it okay if we sleepover today? just need a break from the others.”

“sure, we can watch movies and you guys can sleep on my couch,” you nod your head, diving your hand into a bowl of popcorn that sat on your coffee table.

the night was still young — the moonlight creeping in and shining in your dimly lit living room. the dialogue of the movie is intriguing, but not interesting enough to overlap your desire to hear johnny’s conversation with mark.

“just call her..”

your anxiety can’t help but shoot up when the idea of mark calling you after seven long and hard months after your separation. you were sure he stopped caring the day you walked out the door, or even before that. in your mind, if he truly didn’t mean what he said that night, he would have tried to make contact with you earlier.

“do you have blankets?” jaehyun piped, his head turning in your direction.

“yeah one second, i’ll grab them!” you answer, standing up to get the faux wool sheets from your linen closet. almost right on time, johnny was just hanging up the phone when he saw you.

“you heard that?” he says to you, almost hoping you didn’t. you nod, although you haven’t completely healed from everything, you weren’t fragile. you could handle hearing mark’s name.

“don’t worry about it, he’s just being an idiot,” johnny consoles you. you shrug.

“it’s fine, he’s your friend! i get it,” you tell him, “but could you help me get the blankets and pillows from my closet?”

“of course.”

you reenter the living room with johnny, items for your sleepover in each other’s hands. jaehyun watches you two, specifically johnny as they exchange eye contact (probably due to his abrupt phone call).

you snicker, “you guys don’t have to baby me anymore. i swear i’m okay.”

“what do you mean? we aren’t babying you,” jaehyun clicks out of his movie, searching for a different one for the three of you to watch.

“you can talk about mark, c’mon you guys suck at hiding stuff,” you can’t help but laugh in your head. they could keep comebacks a secret for months but couldn’t keep quiet about one guy? you weren’t complaining, in reality you couldn’t blame them at all.

“sorry y/n,” jaehyun awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, and you pat his shoulder.

“don’t apologize! i’m okay, i promise,” you try to reassure them. by the looks on their faces, you can tell they still feel a bit bad. you quickly snatch the remote out of jaehyun’s hands, noticing that the glances between him and johnny was stopping him from deciding on a movie.

yes, the recovery for you after the separation was hard, and you understood why the two tall boys were wary about talking about him to you. after all, they pretty much had to watch you go through everything. not to mention how they also knew mark’s side of the story, which you chose not to ask about.

in the end, you felt like you had grown from most of the hurt you were put through. sure, there were still some flashing memories and multiple instances where you would ask yourself what led up to that moment, but you usually brushed it off with no other questions.

let’s just say a lot of the damage had already been dealt with and worked through, so now you just want to focus on yourself and your friends. but you knew for sure that if mark came back and asked to be with you again, you would never hesitate on saying yes.

—

you stretch your arms out with a yawn, a blanket strewn across your figure that you don’t remember putting on. you tiredly rub at your eyes, sun rays shining nicely onto your floor. you found yourself on the couch, head nearly touching johnny’s as he scrolled on his phone.

he was lying the opposite direction as you, a pillow on his chest and his eyes flashed to yours.

“you’re finally awake,” he teases, a dumb grin on his face at the sight of your bed hair. a strong scent of fried eggs fills your nostrils, which makes you sit up and peek to your left. it’s jaehyun, placing plates of food proudly onto your white dining table. there’s a satisfactory smile on his face as he does so.

he catches sight of you, patting the table. “hungry?”

you get up from your spot on the couch as johnny does the same. all three of you take seats at the dining table, happily munching on the arrangement of eggs, toast, and hashbrowns.

“should we do anything today?” you queried, covering your mouth with one hand as you chewed. you watch as your two friends exchange looks, like they both knew what to say.

“we have a performance later tonight.. we really want you to come and i’m sure the others would love to see you too. but of course we’ll respect your decision on whether or not you want to see it.”

they both await your response to jaehyun’s offer, almost nervous to see if you would react poorly. you love jaehyun and johnny, and you miss the rest of the boys too. you’re just unsure about how you would act after not seeing mark for so long.

“what kind of performance is it?” you inquire, and you see jaehyun exhale in relief. “it’s a 127 performance stage, and you’re always welcome to visit us backstage right after the song.”

you’re worried that all the hard work you did to lessen the hurt from months before will all be ruined after seeing mark. but then again, you can’t really say you’re over him if you can’t stand seeing his face. this was your opportunity to face your fears and your past — something you’re well aware of that you have been avoiding.

“but then again, you can just leave right after-”

you cut jaehyun off with a sweet smile, “i’ll be there.”

—

“shit, fuck!” you exclaim to yourself after hitting your hand on your bed frame. when jaehyun and johnny had left your house to go practice before the performance, you had covered your face in horror when you realized exactly what you agreed to.

you threw outfits around your room, anxiously holding up different pieces up to your body while checking the mirror. you don’t know what came over you, a surge of confidence or maybe it had been you overestimating your ability to keep your composure.

who were you kidding? you would never be getting over mark. as strong as you crave to be, you couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like if you were still together until this day.

there was way too much anxiety building up inside of you, constantly deciding if you should dress up nicely to show that you were fine without him, or just settling on sweatpants to make him think you didn’t care what he thought anymore.

your eyes are switching from both outfits rapidly, silently cursing yourself for getting into this situation in the first place. you throw your sweats on the ground, checking the time on your phone before putting on a brown skirt and white tshirt that suited your frame nicely.

johnny and jaehyun were sweet enough to get early access for you, so you could beat all the other fans and not deal with the craziness of being stepped on while rushing into the venue.

you threw on a cream oversized cardigan, slipping a brown bag over your shoulder, rushing to put your shoes on and get out of the door. of course your phone was blowing up, you knew that your two friends had told others in the 127 subunit about your sudden attendance.

donghyuck was going crazy, spamming you at every second saying he was so excited to see you again. his messages included questions of your arrival, plans after the show, and just random selfies and pictures of the other members. you would constantly smile at the goofy photos that he would take, and it made you less nervous to go to the venue.

the taxi ride on the way was quiet, with your mind full of possible scenarios that could occur and emotions that had a chance of erupting. clouds scattered around the blue sky, the sun shining brightly into the leather seated car. your hands are settled on your legs, eyes on the cars passing by. the driver sparks up small talk, probably in hopes of a generous tip as you respond with simple answers.

your heartbeat grows faster and louder when the building enters your line of sight. fans are already lining up, flashes of color from the adorable handmade signs that they clutched casually. you smile at a cute gigantic photo of jaehyun, directing the driver to a side entrance where you could enter quietly, and unseen.

you thank the driver, handing him cash before stepping out of the car. you look up at the building, putting a hand on your forehead to block out the sun. two bodyguards are placed at the entrance, standing intimidatingly as they stare at you. you reach into your bagt, taking out your phone to text jaehyun.

just then, the door opens. a man who you do not recognize has a headset on, a mask over his face as he motions for you to approach him. you quickly rush over to him, straightening out your outfit as the bodyguards make way for you to enter.

once you set foot inside, it’s quite dark compared to the brightness of the daylight outside. the air conditioning is soothing and the faint sound of music fills your ears, probably from the stage itself.

“hello,” you greet the man as soon as the door closes. he speaks into a walkie-talkie, before greeting you back. he ushers you to follow him, leading you to where you will be in the audience. he seems to be trying to move as quickly as possible, which is understandable.

he pushes open a door, revealing the stage and some of the members on it. he speaks to another worker briefly, before telling you to just stand in the front. you move awkwardly, watching as donghyuck and doyoung spoke to each other. they didn’t notice you in the dark, not until you reached the front of the stage.

their eyes shifted towards you, donghyuck’s eyes widening.

“y/n!” he ran to you like a little kid, climbing down the stairs with a smile on his face. doyoung followed closely behind him, also happy to see you.

before you’re able to react, hyuck is enveloping you in a huge hug, crushing you. he’s pretty much squealing while doyoung ruffles your hair. it had been months since you last saw them, saying you didn’t miss this would be a blatant lie. you happily wrap your arms around the boy, smiling back.

he pulls away, shaking your shoulders excitedly. “i can’t believe you’re here!”

“how have you been?” doyoung gushes.

“i’ve been good! i’m so glad i get to see you guys again, and i get to see you performing too!” you exclaim, a cheery look evident on your face when you admire the two. you take the time to soak in the venue, the scene set for the stage, the screens, and the countless number of cameras scattered about.

“you’re so cute y/n,” donghyuck coos, pinching your cheek. you squint in slight pain, rubbing your face after he let go.

“i’m sure the others will be happy to see you after,” doyoung mentions. he turns to hyuck, who is still babying you and clinging onto your arm. you forgot how much he loved to smother you, and how much you craved seeing the others again. you were always close to the boys — you just seemed to easily get along with them and grow comfortable in their presence.

“we should prepare before the fans are let in, we don’t want our y/n getting in trouble,” doyoung reminds the younget, patting your shoulder. the corners of your lips lift at the gesture, nodding along.

“no scandals, please,” you say jokingly, making hyuck roll his eyes.

“can’t we talk just a little longer?” he practically begs. doyoung pushes him away before he can protest, saying, “we’ll see her after the performance!”

you wave them goodbye, watching the staff run across the stage and pointing them where to go. they walk offstage, the pit of nervousness in your stomach beginning to grow larger.

right on time, the fans start pouring in, the chaos is relatively contained. a staff member was directing the fans who would be standing, while the people sitting in the upper sections found their seats on their own. lightsticks were basically in everyone’s hands, making you feel a bit guilty for not getting one for yourself.

the talking grows louder as people start taking places next to you. you were right against the barricade, and you’re grateful that everyone was polite enough to not push against each other that much. some people have signs, some wearing cute headbands with a member’s name or face, and some with pickets.

“i’m so excited,” a fan says to you, catching you off guard. you forgot that people at concerts were usually friendly, but that’s what makes you love them so much.

“me too,” you agree, which isn’t exactly the truth. you’re more uneasy than excited.

“who’s your bias?” she asks you, going on her tippy toes to see if she could catch a glimpse of a member offstage.

you purse your lips, “hm, not sure. i like them all. what about you?”

“definitely mark!” she beams happily, and you smile at her thrilled reaction. gosh, you always failed to remember how popular mark is with his fanbase. it makes sense, especially with the amount of talent he holds — and you can’t forget his attractiveness.

the screams grow louder as the lights begin to dim, shadows moving around the stage. the people surrounding you let out ear piercing screams, making your face scrunch up as you cover your ears for a moment.

finally, the shadows stop moving. they create a formation, standing completely still. that’s when the onstage lighting is cued, revealing none other than nct 127. the fans are going wild, doyoung standing in the middle as he scans the crowd.

when the music begins to fade in, you can’t help but adjust to your environment and join in to cheer for your friends. your eyes shift to all of them, just so overjoyed to see their faces again. you have no idea who knows you’re here and who doesn’t, so you’re hoping to give them a pleasant surprise if they are able to spot you amongst the sea of people.

your face immediately drops when mark comes to the middle for the choreography. although it’s not in a bad way, it was just a habit of yours. you can’t help but fixate on him, his movements, his rapping, everything about him is just so mesmerizing. the girl next to you, who biases mark, sounds like she’s going through all five stages of grief when he does his part.

his dancing is so sharp and precise, yet there are so many levels of fluidity involved in it. his stage presence is amazing, keeping your eyes on him. it makes your stomach churn, hands gripping on the black metal barricade in front of you. you paid no attention to the fanchants being cheered in unison, only focusing on mark.

his eyes are going through everyone standing in the front row. he offers small smiles and facials to fit the song, and when his stare lands on you, he has to do a double take. you watch when his eyes flash to the next fan, only to go back to you. when he realizes that it’s you, his eyebrows furrowed together, making you a little embarrassed.

maybe you shouldn’t have come, because just watching him perform sparks up emotions that you buried deep down. for the entire dance, you can only keep your attention to mark. he would look somewhere else throughout the comeback stage, but often his gaze would return to you.

the audience space wasn’t huge, so the lighting was perfect to see everyone who stands right in front of the stage. that’s why you’re sure mark had seen you, because when the entire thing ends, he makes sure to take one last glance over to you before walking off with his members.

—

you’re left waiting in the audience once the performance ends, patiently lingering about as everyone leaves. you’re quite thankful that no one found it suspicious, as an article about you visiting the members backstage is the last thing you wanted. once the last of the fans exit the building, a staff member politely guides you to the members’ whereabouts.

you hear loud laughter and talking, being greeted with white hallways and doors. there are stylists and other employees packing their belongings, the sounds of makeup bags zipping open and closed fills your ears. you wave at those you recognize, offering small smiles to those you don’t. finally, you reach a half open door with a couple of the boys joking around with each other.

the person who was escorting you parted ways with you, and you make sure to thank them as well. you take a peek inside, seeing donghyuck, doyoung, johnny, and jaehyun. you smile to yourself, gripping your bag tighter. you knock softly on the door, poking your head through the doorway.

their heads cock towards your direction, all four of their faces relaxing when they realize that it’s you.

“you’re back!” hyuck bubbles, running towards you once again. you’re half relieved that mark isn’t in the same room, but the other half is a mix of emotions that you aren’t quite sure of.

before you know it, donghyuck is dragging you farther inside the room. johnny is lying down on the black leather couch, jaehyun propped up in a chair by the mirrors, while doyoung sits on the floor.

“wow, you actually came,” johnny says, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“what’s that supposed to mean?” you ask playfully, glaring at him.

“nothing!”

“i missed you so much,” donghyuck exaggerates, unable to stop hugging you. he had always been the most clingy towards you, although in the past it had driven mark a little crazy, you didn’t mind at all.

“me too!” a voice chimed in from behind you. you turn your head, spotting yuta from the door you originally entered from. he has a huge grin on his face, acting just like donghyuck as he skips happily to hug you.

“did you enjoy the performance?” jaehyun asks, pointing to the chair next to him, indicating to you to sit next to him. you let go of donghyuck and yuta, which they weren’t so happy about. you smooth out the wrinkles in your outfit, nodding your head.

“it was amazing! it’s been so long since i’ve gotten to see you guys live and i almost forgot how talented you guys are,” you praise.

“we’re glad you liked it,” doyoung states, smiling. sitting around like this, around them, makes you reminisce on your past. all the dinners and hang outs, the visits to the dorm, the sleepovers, everything. you hope that everyday forward, you will be able to see them normally. they were quite literally your only friends you spent time with, and although you love johnny and jaehyun to death, you loved the others too.

“hey did you guys see my—”

your heart stops. you could recognize that voice from anywhere, even when you’re turned away from the entrance to the dressing room. the room falls silent, all eyes are on the person behind you. you turn your chair, only to be met with mark’s eyes. he’s standing still, already changed out of his stage outfit. you can see that the others are trying to find a way to lighten the mood or take the attention off you two, but no one says anything.

when donghyuck darts to leave the room, everyone follows him silently. the room is just left with the two of you, who are unable to say anything. all you do is look at each other, almost in disbelief. your face is heating up, with a strong urge to run away, hide. anything to get yourself away from here. mark’s lips are slightly parted, searching for the right words to say.

“i’m glad you came,” he blurts out, making you stare anywhere besides his brown orbs.

“oh,” you let out, “i didn’t think you would want to see me.”

your heart is shattering into a million pieces all over again, just by seeing his face. you’re reminded of what he said to you that night, how cruel he acted, the days you spent crying over the fact that you lost the love of your life.

“you look nice,” your head perks up, surprised to hear him say that. your heart thumps louder, legs pressed tightly together as the constant feeling of anxiousness begins to build up inside you once again.

“you too..”

“i-i wanted to talk to you actually,” mark manages to stutter out, his same old awkward self showing. “but not here though.”

you’re unsure of what is happening, questioning if this is even real, or if your mind is playing tricks on you.

“i’m not sure i’m comfortable with that.”

“please,” he basically pleads. his face has softened, eyes begging you to just hear what he has to say. it scares you so much, being sucked in like this again. he always had a way that made you melt into his hand, even if he was unaware of it. “i just want to talk about what happened..”

you were unsure if that was supposed to make you feel better. you didn’t know if you wanted to know what made him end your relationship, either way, you’re certain that it probably wouldn’t change anything. he would just be breaking your heart a little more.

“mark..”

“it’s not what you think,” he says, and for a moment, you can see a glimpse of hope. the glimmer that you want to deny, but the way he’s looking at you right now makes you want to say yes so badly.

he can’t stop staring at you as you get lost deep in thought. you’re eyeing him, full of contemplation as you have an internal battle with your own self. if anything, he owes you. even if it’s as little as an explanation, you deserve it.

you look to your hands again, which are sweating as they clasp together in your lap.

“okay.”

—

if someone had told you months ago, while you were recovering from the breakup, that you would be sitting in mark lee’s car months later, you would have laughed in their face. but as ironic as it sounds, here you were; overthinking every movement, sitting in quietness, incapable of speaking a single word to each other.

the radio isn’t on, the only sound is the engine and the passing cars that drove beside you. at times, you would find yourself glimpsing at his face, catching sight of him and how he still looked amazing.

you would quickly look back towards the window though, in fear of being caught. as much as you dreamt about this moment, you were still so scared. you didn’t want to have to go through what happened in the past twice.

you didn’t think of yourself as frail, in fact you believed you were someone who stood their ground. but when it came to mark, you could never say no. you classified it as a bad habit that you thought you got over, but your current situation proved to you that the habit still existed.

“we’re here,” mark breathes, placing the gear in park. he unbuckles his seatbelt, looking towards you. you’re nervous, but meet his eyes.

“are you okay?” he asks with concern. at this point, you don’t know what being okay means anymore. you had spent so much time in the past, convincing yourself that you were okay. but as you sit, next to the boy who you thought was your everything, you can’t tell if you had ever been okay in the first place.

“i think so,” you can’t help but mutter out in a small voice. he nods his head once, as you undo your own seatbelt as well. you both get out of the car at the same time, and you can’t lie that you’re taken aback when you realize he had parked right by a park, with a view of the water.

“why are we here?” you sound more irritated than you intended, causing mark to run a hand through his brown locks.

“so we could talk..”

“i didn’t think you would bring me someplace like this,” you reply back. although you’re a little confused, you follow mark to a picnic table that he guides you to.

you sit across from mark, hands placed on your thighs nervously. he’s looking at you the entire time, almost as if he’s studying your every movement.

“what is it?” you finally bring up. you needed to know why mark brought you here, and what this meant to him.

“is it okay if i explain myself?”

your heart basically sinks to your stomach. of course this is all he wanted, a chance to tell you the reasoning behind his decisions. you’re upset at yourself for making yourself vulnerable once again; putting your heart on your sleeve for mark to crush not once, but twice.

your legs are trembling under the table, your lip quivering ever so slightly. it isn’t noticeable to mark, and you’re praying that he doesn’t see your shakiness as you prepare yourself for his story. your posture isn’t the best, slightly hunched over only to relieve yourself of the intolerable twists your stomach was making. you nod your head, waiting for him to begin.

he takes a deep breath first, placing his hands on the table, “i’m going to begin with the obvious, the way i treated you wasn’t cool of me. as your boyfriend at the time, i wasn’t thinking straight.”

“okay,” is the only response you give.

“i fucked up badly. i’ll never forget what i said that night, and i’m sure you haven’t either. you were around me all the time, just taking care of me in general and making sure that i was healthy and going above and beyond. i didn’t deserve you. i just thought you were being clingy, and this isn’t an excuse but work was so stressful that i decided to mess up the one thing that kept me going.”

you’re beginning to zone out, processing his words. what was he trying to say? you’re so lost, numb almost, still in a wave of shock. your eyebrows are scrunched together, staring at his hands.

“when i brought it up with the other guys, they told me i wouldn’t realize what i lost until it was gone. until you were gone, and to be frank, they were right,” he places his elbows on the table, using both of his hands to hold either sides of his head.

“mark-”

“that’s not all i did wrong, i know. i didn’t even check up on you directly because i was so frustrated with what i did, i couldn’t face the shame. during the time we dated, i was always so caught up in my own business that i barely did anything for you, and i knew you would find someone better. someone who would treat you the way you’re meant to be treated, and i wasn’t ready to hear about that. but now i’m ready to face it, and i don’t have the right to ask you to forgive me, but i just need you to know how truly sorry i am.”

you don’t comprehend that mark is crying until his tears are dripping onto the paint chipped table. he looks at you with watery eyes, making you want to cry in return.

“you hurt me so badly,” you sniffle, wiping a tear from your face with your sleeve. he takes the chance to take your hand, holding it like he’s afraid to let go.

“i know i did, fuck, i’m so damn sorry,” he acknowledges, sucking in his bottom lip. “you were the best thing that ever happened to me, and i just needed to tell you that. i would never forgive myself if i didn’t, because everything i said to you when i was angry meant absolutely nothing. i don’t want this to affect you any longer, i don’t want you thinking you did anything wrong. you were, i mean are perfect.”

your fingers are intertwined so tightly, puffy eyes staring at each other. he gets up so swiftly, sitting next to you as he engulfs you in a secure hug. he buries his head in the crook of your neck while you grip at his sleeves.

“one more,” you whisper to him. he backs his head away, eyes red as he smiles sadly. he leans forward towards your lips, placing them on yours with shut eyes.

it’s full of passion, but not heat filled passion. it’s like you’re both trying to fill the holes in your heart that mark had created in the first place, mending your hearts back into one. it’s one of the things you missed most, being able to feel this again. the feeling of being safe in his arms, like there’s a whole world out there, but in the moment, the only things that mattered was you two.

everything that you suppressed is flowing back with one kiss, a kiss that you had been thinking about for quite a long time. he tucks your hair behind your ears as he pulls you closer, never wanting to stop. you both just want to live together, here in this very point in time.

he pulls away, wiping the tears from your eyes with his hand.

“mark,” you sigh, taking ahold of his face with both of your hands.

“i know,” he nods. “but you said one more.”

you smile at him, pecking his lips again. his eyes widen in surprise.

“i meant one more chance.”

his mouth opens, staring at you in disbelief. when he hears you say that, he can’t help but kiss every part of your face. by now, both of your teardrops had been turned into those of contentment.

“i will never hurt you like that again, and that’s a promise,” he states, “and i never intend to break it.”

you both rest your foreheads against each other, still so full of happiness to finally be brought back together. you hope mark is being truthful, because you know you can’t go through all of that pain again. but with that look on mark’s face, your trust starts to slowly build up again. paired with his apology, you know that he meant what he said.

you know that you found your best friend and the person you want to be with forever, especially when you watch the sunset together, just enjoying each others’ company. you’re sure that things will not end up like last time, and you’re certain that everything between you would be alright.

and from that point forward — it is.

#mark #mark fluff #mark angst #mark fanfic #mark imagine #mark lee #mark lee fluff #mark lee angst #mark lee fanfic #mark lee imagine #nct #nct angst #nct fluff #nct fanfic #nct imagine #nct 127 #nct dream #nct u

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regicidal-defenestration · 3 months

Text

No-one else is doing it like Doctor Who and the Pirates

Sixth Doctor, spoken: One can almost say that I am the very model of a Gallifreyan buccaneer.

(jaunty music begins)

Evelyn, spoken: Oh no, you are going to sing!

Sixth Doctor, spoken: Well, yes I am!

Sixth Doctor, singing:

I... am the very model of a Gallifreyan Buccaneer.

I've information on all things a Gallifreyan holds most dear.

I've linked into the Matrix through its exitonic circuitry,

I understand dimensional and relative chronometry.

I'm very well acquainted too with matters of the Capitol,

I'll give you verse and chapter on Panopticonian protocol,

I've been into the Death Zone and I've played the Game of Rassilon--

(Rassilon? Assilon, Bassilon-- ah ha!)

With pestilential monsters that I got a lot of hassle from!

Chorus: With pestilential monsters that he got a lot of hassle from! With pestilential monsters that he got a lot of hassle from! With pestilential monsters that he got a lot of hassle hassle from!

Sixth Doctor:

I understand each language and I speak every vernacular.

I'll conjugate each verb obscure, decline each line irregular.

In short in every matter that a Gallifreyan holds most dear,

I am the very model of a Gallifreyan Buccaneer.

Chorus: In short in every matter that a Gallifreyan holds most dear, he is the very model of a Gallifreyan Buccaneer.

Sixth Doctor:

I've tackled shady Castellans with devious behavior.

I've sparred with Time Lord chancellors like Thalia, Goth, or Flavia.

In fact on some occasions I've held office Presidentally,

'though maybe I won't mention I was ousted out eventually.

I know just how it feels to be a wanted man and on the run,

but wouldn't leave the carefree buccaneering life for anyone.

Though sometimes my adventures seem absurdly operatical--

(Operatical? Hatical... patical-- ah ha!)

With ups and down and twists and turns and incidents piratical.

Chorus: With ups and down and twists and turns and incidents piratical! With ups and down and twists and turns and incidents piratical! With ups and down and twists and turns and incidents piratic-ratical!

Sixth Doctor:

I've sailed the seven seas of Earth and all the oceans of the Moon,

my trusty true Type-40 is my Gallifreyan picaroon.

But is this really what the average Galifreyan holds most dear?

I wonder what they think about this Gallifreyan Buccaneer.

Chorus: But is this really what the average Galifreyan holds most dear? We wonder what they think about this Gallifreyan Buccaneer.

Sixth Doctor:

But....

I've defeated evil robots such as Daleks, Quarks, and Cybermen.

I've overthrown dictators from Tobias Vaughn to Mavic Chen.

I've rescued helpless maidens from the devestating Viking hordes.

Vanquished Autons.... Axons... Daemons... Krotons.... Monoids, Vampires, Voords.

I've liberated planets and delivered them from total war.

Saved Earth, Manussa, Dulkis, Skonnos, Earth, Tigella, Earth once more.

In short I know I am the truest Rassilonian legate

(Legate? Decate...Hecate...Hecate? Mm. Not sure if that's canonical... Ah ha, I have it!)

And so to Time Lords all I say remember me to Gallifrey!

Chorus: A sentiment we all agree, remember him to Gallifrey! A sentiment we all agree, remember him to Gallifrey! A sentiment we all agree, remember him to Galli-Gallifrey!

Sixth Doctor:

I'm not content to just observe, I am a bold adventurer.

Though other Time Lords mock this Gallifreyan interventioner.

I know in every matter that a Time Lord really should hold dear

I am the very model of a Gallifreyan Buccaneer!

Chorus: We know in every matter that a Time Lord really should hold dear, he is the very model of a Gallifreyan Buccaneer!

#story of all time to me #they also did a parody of I am the Pirate King which we love to see #sounds #doctor who #big finish #doctor who and the pirates #six

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nayziiz · 1 month

Text

Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

Chapter 3

From an early age, Amelia had grown accustomed to the protective cocoon created by her father's men, a presence that had surrounded her throughout her childhood. However, as she reached her twenty-first birthday, her desire for independence clashed with her father's protective instincts. In an attempt to break free from the stifling security, she insisted on enjoying her celebration without the constant surveillance. Unbeknownst to her, this decision would lead to unforeseen consequences.

During her birthday celebration, things took a sinister turn as gunmen entered the club, and her father's men had to intervene, ruining what was supposed to be a joyous occasion. This incident left a bitter taste in Amelia's mouth, prompting her to assert her independence even more vehemently. She demanded space to live her life without constant interference, blissfully unaware that this newfound freedom would come at a high cost.

As Amelia and Lando ventured into their risky business collaboration, the exportation of luxury vehicles from her showroom became a subject of scrutiny, especially for keen observers like the Russells. The patriarch of the Russell family, a fervent antique vehicle collector, had an extensive knowledge of cars in the London area. Their family operated like vigilant police dogs, adept at sniffing out anything suspicious and often open to being persuaded into silence through bribes.

The shift in Amelia's business activities did not go unnoticed, and the Russells were the first to raise an eyebrow. They were astute and methodical, always keeping a watchful eye on the activities within their realm of interest. The luxury vehicles, once displayed as previously owned gems in Amelia's showroom, now caught their attention, setting off alarm bells in the meticulous mind of the patriarch.

The Russells' modus operandi involved uncovering anything unusual and then leveraging that information to their advantage. In this case, they sensed an opportunity to exploit the situation, fully aware that Amelia's sudden shift in business practices could be used to their benefit. Their penchant for detecting irregularities made them formidable adversaries, skilled at navigating the intricate underworld of deals and secrets.

Adding to the complexity of the situation was George, the Russells’ son, a figure from their high school days whose unsettling crush on Amelia cast a lingering discomfort over their interactions. Despite his older age, George had consistently hovered around Lando and Amelia's social circle during their school years. His presence, coupled with his family’s reputation, added an element of personal tension to the already precarious business dealings.

As George Russell strode into the showroom, his imposing presence seemed to fill the space with an air of tension and unease. His eyes scanned the rows of luxury vehicles with a predatory gleam, his gaze lingering on each car as if assessing its worth.

Amelia's heart sank as she watched George move through the showroom, his every step sending a ripple of apprehension through her. She knew that his interest in the vehicles was more than just casual curiosity; it was a calculated move, designed to probe for weaknesses and exploit any vulnerabilities he might find.

Summoning all her courage, Amelia made her way down to where George was. As George inspected the vehicles on display, his attention was immediately drawn to a sleek and aerodynamic Aston Martin DBS Superleggera. Its polished silver exterior gleamed under the showroom lights, exuding an air of sophistication and power. She forced a smile onto her face, hoping to conceal the unease that churned in the pit of her stomach.

“George, it's been a while.” She greeted him, her voice strained with forced cheerfulness. George turned to face her, his expression unreadable.

“Amelia.” He replied, his tone cool and measured.

As they stood face to face, the tension between them was palpable, a silent undercurrent that threatened to pull them under. George's presence was a reminder of a past that Amelia would rather forget, a time when his unwelcome advances made her skin crawl with discomfort.

But now, faced with the reality of George's scrutiny, Amelia knew that she couldn't afford to let her personal feelings cloud her judgement. She forced herself to focus on the task at hand, determined to navigate this encounter with as much grace and composure as she could muster.

“So, what brings you to the showroom today?” She asked, her voice carefully neutral. George's lips curled into a sly smile.

“Oh, just thought I'd stop by and see what treasures you have hidden away here. I had my heart set on a Mercedes.” He replied, his tone tinged with a hint of mockery.

Amelia couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over her at George's response, though his tone still sent a shiver down her spine.

“Well, we have some exquisite Mercedes models as well. Let me show you.” She replied, forcing a smile to hide her growing discomfort.

Leading George away from the Aston Martin DBS Superleggera, Amelia guided him towards a row of Mercedes-Benz vehicles, each one a testament to German engineering and luxury craftsmanship. As they approached a gleaming Mercedes-AMG GT R, its vibrant red paint catching the light, Amelia couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. The GT R was a performance powerhouse, with a handcrafted V8 engine and precision-tuned handling that promised an exhilarating driving experience.

“This is our newest addition.” Amelia said, gesturing towards the Mercedes-AMG GT R. “It's a masterpiece of engineering, with unparalleled performance and luxury.”

George's eyes lit up with interest as he examined the car, his earlier air of mockery replaced by genuine intrigue.

“Impressive.” He admitted, running a hand along the smooth lines of the bodywork. “I must say, you have quite the selection here.”

“Thank you. We take pride in offering only the finest vehicles to our clients.” Amelia nodded, her smile growing more genuine.

As George continued to inspect the Mercedes-AMG GT R, Amelia couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his visit than just a casual interest in luxury cars. She knew that she would need to tread carefully if she hoped to navigate this encounter without revealing too much about their illicit business dealings.

“And, how would I go about getting one of these to my property in Dubai?” George wondered, his eyes glancing up to study Amelia.

Amelia's heart skipped a beat at George's question, knowing that transporting a luxury vehicle like the Mercedes-AMG GT R to Dubai would require careful planning and discretion.

“We have reputable shipping partners who specialise in transporting vehicles internationally. They handle all the logistics and ensure that your car arrives safely and discreetly at your property in Dubai.” She paused for a moment, gauging George's reaction before continuing. “Of course, we understand the importance of privacy and confidentiality in these matters. Our shipping partners operate with the utmost discretion, ensuring that your purchase remains confidential every step of the way.”

Amelia's words were carefully chosen, designed to reassure George while subtly reminding him of the need for secrecy. She knew that their business dealings could not afford any unnecessary attention, especially from someone as astute and perceptive as George Russell. George nodded thoughtfully, seemingly satisfied with her response.

“Excellent.” He said, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. “I'll need to consider my options.”

He suddenly stood upright and watched her intently as he circled around the car back to her.

“If I'm being honest, Amelia. I'm not really here for a car.” He admitted.

Amelia's heart skipped a beat as George's words hung heavy in the air, her instincts screaming at her to tread carefully. She maintained her composure, though her mind raced with apprehension as she met George's intense gaze.

“Oh?” She replied, her voice steady despite the turmoil churning within her. “Then what brings you to the showroom, George?”

George's lips curled into a sly smile, a predatory gleam dancing in his eyes.

“I've heard whispers, Amelia. Whispers of a different kind of treasure hidden away here.” He said, his voice low and conspiratorial.

Amelia's pulse quickened at his words, her mind racing to comprehend the implications of his revelation. She knew that their secret dealings had drawn attention from all corners, but to have George standing before her, openly acknowledging their illicit activities, sent a chill down her spine.

She forced herself to maintain her composure, though her nerves threatened to betray her.

“I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about.” She replied, her voice tinged with a hint of unease. George chuckled softly, his gaze never wavering from hers.

“Oh, I think you do, Amelia. And I must say, I'm intrigued, especially with little Lando Norris involved.” He said, his tone dripping with menace.

Amelia's breath caught in her throat at George's ominous words, her heart pounding in her chest as a chill raced down her spine. The mention of Lando's name sent a surge of fear coursing through her veins.

“You should be very careful about the company you keep. Lando’s changed since high school.” He whispered, his eyes glittering with malice as he leaned in closer, his presence suffocating.

“George, I truly have no idea what you’re talking about.” She replied, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to sound confident.

“Just know we are on your trail, Rossi. This won’t end well. Not for you and certainly not for Lando and his family.” George added.

Amelia's heart sank as George's ominous words hung heavy in the air, her mind reeling with the implications of his threat. But George's cold stare bore into her, his eyes flashing with a dangerous intensity. As he turned to leave, leaving her alone in the showroom with her thoughts and the looming threat of his scrutiny, Amelia couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding wash over her. She knew that their encounter with George had raised the stakes to a whole new level, and that they would need to proceed with caution if they hoped to emerge from the ordeal unscathed.

She slowly made her way back up to her office, shutting the door behind her as she entered her safe space. With trembling hands, Amelia retrieved the burner phone from the depths of her bag, her heart pounding in her chest as she carefully avoided using her own phone for any communication with Lando. There was a possibility her phone had been tapped.

As she stared at the screen of the burner phone, her mind raced with the urgency of the situation. She knew that every moment counted, that they had to act swiftly and decisively if they hoped to stay one step ahead of George and his relentless pursuit of the truth.

With a steadying breath, Amelia began to type out a message to Lando, her fingers flying over the keys in a desperate bid to convey the gravity of their predicament. “Meet me at home after work tonight. Urgent.” She wrote, her words, a silent plea for help in the face of impending danger.

As she hit send, a wave of relief washed over her, knowing that she had taken the first step towards securing their safety. But even as she waited for Lando's response, a sense of unease gnawed at her, reminding her that their troubles were far from over.

As Lando's phone buzzed with the incoming message from Amelia, he felt a surge of apprehension wash over him. The urgency in her words had sent a chill down his spine, and he knew instinctively that something was terribly wrong.

Lando's heart raced as he stepped into the familiar confines of the Rossi estate, his mind swirling with a thousand questions and fears. The urgency of Amelia's message had spurred him into action, driving him to her side without a moment's hesitation. He found her waiting for him in the modest living room. The tension in the air was palpable as he took a seat opposite her, their eyes meeting in silent understanding.

“Amelia.” Lando began, his voice filled with concern. “What's going on? What's so urgent?”

Amelia's expression was grave as she met his gaze, her eyes reflecting the turmoil swirling within her.

“Does the name George Russell ring any bells?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No fucking way.” Lando huffed, already adding up the pieces in his mind.

“He knows, Lando. He knows about our... dealings.” Amelia added.

“How?” Lando asked, his mind racing with possibilities. “How could he possibly know?”

“I don't know.” She admitted.

“Please tell me he didn’t approach you at the showroom.” Lando quipped, worry etched on his face.

“He did. He threatened us, Lando. He threatened you and your family.” Amelia shook her head, her brow furrowed with worry.

Feeling the weight of Amelia's worries pressing down on them both, Lando rose from his seat and moved to sit beside her, his instinct guiding him to offer comfort in the face of uncertainty. With a gentle touch, he pulled her into his embrace, enveloping her in warmth and reassurance.

Amelia leaned into him, seeking solace in the strength of his embrace. The tension that had gripped her began to melt away in the comfort of his arms, replaced by a sense of safety and security that only Lando could provide.

For a moment, they sat in silence, drawing strength from each other's presence as they faced the daunting challenges that lay ahead. In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving only the two of them together, united in their determination to overcome whatever obstacles stood in their way.

“We need to be smart about this.” Lando said, his voice steady despite the turmoil raging around them. “We can't let George intimidate us. We need to stay one step ahead of him, no matter what it takes.”

As they held each other close, Lando gently brushed his fingers through Amelia's hair, his touch tender and comforting. He whispered words of encouragement into her ear, his voice a soothing melody that calmed the tumultuous storm raging within her heart.

Feeling the warmth of his breath against her skin, Amelia closed her eyes and let herself be enveloped by his embrace, finding solace in the strength of his arms. His words washed over her like a healing balm, easing the knots of worry and fear that had gripped her. In that moment, she felt a sense of peace wash over her, knowing that no matter what trials lay ahead, they would face them together just like the many other times they had done so previously.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!au #mafia!f1 #f1 drivers #f1 driver x oc #lando norris x reader #f1 driver x reader #f1 x reader

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